


Sex Magic

by here_there_be_smut



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Face-Fucking, Illusions, Oral Sex, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/here_there_be_smut/pseuds/here_there_be_smut
Summary: The witch didn't feel remorse. In fact they felt it was cruel to deny these mortals what they so clearly wanted.
Kudos: 7





	Sex Magic

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this is finished. I might turn it into a little series.

The witch had walked through their long life cloaked in shades of grey morality and hunger. When you always got everything you wanted the way they did, it was easy to live that way. It was also, always so easy to determine which human would be right for the ritual because their mortal desires settled over and around the witch like a second skin. The humans couldn't see the witch any longer. Only the grey shades of their desires. Like every good predator, the witch used their natural camouflage to their advantage.

Outwardly, the witch appeared perfectly normal in every way. There was nothing particularly special about the way they presented themselves to the world. In the beginning, they lived for the days when they would catch the eye of a mortal. In a flash they became what that moral wanted most in another. This time, they had waited. In the past they had pounced on every opportunity that presented itself. An easy burst of color and energy to fill the grey that was their whole life. But the years had taken their toll and the witch felt weary of the chase. 

So this time, when the man in his 30s with beautiful dark hair had glanced back they had continued on their way. They had run out of mugwort, and lavender and were heading to get fresh cuttings. However, they should have known better. A connection like the one they regularly made with humans was not easily cast aside, or forgotten. They dreamed of the man that night in their bed and woke gasping. Startling the old ginger cat that slept at the foot of their bed. The choice was already made for them, as it had been many times before. The witch put on a kettle of tea and pulled down two mugs. They knew to expect company.

At half past 11 in the morning, the witch heard a rapping at their door. They glaced in the dusty mirror in the hall on the way to admit the visitor. Chuckling at the dark haired and beautiful face staring back. The girl in the mirror was a timid little thing. The witch had played this part many times in the past. She sighed as she continued to the door, he would probably bring roses. They always did.

She tossed open her front door to see the dark haired fellow standing on her porch. He looked tired and a little shaken. The witch saw that she had been unkind to leave him alone that night. As predicted, he had brought a bundle of blood red roses with him. The witch hated roses. Like her, they were predators in disguise growing voraciously if unchecked, and killing all the other plants in the garden. 

When he saw her for the first time it was like he had finished a great task and his breath stuttered out of him in relief.

"I dreamed of you." He said quietly.

She took pity on him and brought him inside. She took the roses and put them in water. She's cut them into pieces later. Their petals would be useful, at least. She sat the man down at her table and gave him a mug of hot tea. The tea was a mix of her own creation. Camomile for calm, hibiscus for lust, and cinnamon for power. She could see the tension in his shoulders ease as he sipped it.

"How did you find me?" She asked him. It was something she always wondered. How did they always find her?

"I don't really know." He was still speaking quietly. Like he couldn't believe he was actually there. "It felt like I was pulling on a string inside my chest. It brought me here."

She nodded.

"Come with me." She began to steele herself for what was to come.

The ritual space had been many things for many people over the years. For this man, it was a basement with dark leather furniture and dark wooden bookshelves. She breathed in through her nose deeply, appreciating the scents in the projected memory.

The moment he set foot in his space he immediately relaxed. A soft smile appeared on his lips. The time had come so she went to work.

She took her clothes off. Quickly and with fluid motions. His eyes darkened as they watched her. This body was thin, and young. She felt the goose bumps raise on her exposed skin and she took a moment to enjoy the beautiful projection. She padded softly across to him and began to remove his clothes.

"Is this what you want?" She purred at him.

"More than anything." He rasped.

She ran her hands over his chest and felt his breath quicken. She ran her hand up to his throat and lightly began to squeeze.

"Everything you are and have been is now mine." She whispered.

"Yours." He agreed.

She finished undressing him and he stepped out of his clothes like he was shedding an old skin. He was well made, this mortal. He was muscular and tanned. It was clear to the witch he took pride in his appearance. He was greying slightly at his temples, she noticed.

As if something had snapped in him, he surged forward to capture her lips in a fierce claiming kiss. She let herself float away with the moment, matching his ardour. He palmed her breasts gently, using his thumbs to stroke her nipples. This body was responsive, she noticed. They always were. Everything their partner could possibly want. She moaned softly into his kiss and let her hands roam to his stomach softly covered with hair that had been groomed recently. He began to kiss down her neck, and she allowed herself to touch him. He was hard already. Thick and powerful in her hands. He made a soft noise as she ran her finger softly over the head of his cock. She knew immediately that this would be over quickly. She could already feel the energy spiking in the room.

She dropped to her knees and looked up through dark long lashes that weren't her own. He caught her hard by the face and shoved his cock between her lips. She could taste the salt from him already on her tongue. He began to thrust roughly into the back of her throat. The impressive length of him was fully sheathed. She kept her eyes on his as he did this and felt him quiver. After a moment, he released her and stepped back. She was panting from her throat being used. The mortal loved to see how messy he'd made her.

"Fuck me." She begged him.

She watched him shiver. Knowing he wouldn't last longer than a song. She laid back and spread her legs open wide.

"I need you." She mewled at him.

There wasn't any way he could have stopped himself. His fate has been sealed the moment he laid eyes on her. He dropped to his knees and crawled over her. He looked painfully hard and her only thoughts, as he lined himself up with her entrance, was of helping him find relief. He pushed deeply into her, and she felt her hymen tear. The Witch had never understood this part of the fantasy, though it no longer surprised her. It wouldn't be long now. He gave her no more than a moment to become accustomed to his size before he began to thrust into her. She whimpered as he hit right into her cervix. It was like this sometimes. Mortals occasionally used pain to feel more alive. Pain and subjugation of others.

It was at this moment, that if the mortal had the idea to look more closely he could have seen the cracks in the illusion. She could feel the magic starting to rise. The light at the edges of the illusion was getting brighter and brighter. He didn't see. They never did.

His thrusts were getting more wild. He was pouring all his focus into lasting a little longer. She watched, like always, as his outline started to blur. The ritual space was doing most of the work for her. Which was exactly what it was designed for. He was thrusting faster and faster. The witch ignored the pain, and began the closing incantation. He hardly noticed as she uttered the closing words. She looked deep into his eyes.

"I want you to cum for me." She said in a low voice.

He growled his release into her ear holding her tight and, at the exact moment of climax, he exploded into shadows. The illusion melted away as quickly as it had come. And there in the center of the ancient ritual space the witch took a steadying breath. The deep hunger in the witch's heart had subsided completely. For the time being.

They wandered tiredly back into the hall with the dusty mirror and looked into it knowing exactly what they would see. Not the timid, dark haired girl of the ritual room but only themselves. Unremarkable and grey. The ginger cat wound around the witch's ankles requesting food. They smiled. Next time they'd remember to feed the cat first. The witch could certainly sympathize with being hungry.


End file.
